Little Tiger
by Lunarion Silver
Summary: M!Hawke/Anders - Slash - "Written for the "Misguided" prompt on the BSN. Anders convinces Hawke to "roleplay" in order to spice up their love life." - Completely cracked and smutty, because I could.


**Title: **Little Tiger

**Fandom**: Dragon Age II

**Pairing:** Hawke/Anders (M/M)

**Warnings**: CRACK, NSFW, Kitty!Hawke

**Disclaimer**: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. I'm only an obsessive fan.

**A/N**: I apologise for any typos or nonsensical ramblings, because I was too rushed to send this through my Beta.

Trying to force inspiration sucks, so behold this short, horrible crack fic for the Anders prompt group on the BSN. Prompt was "Misguided". Companion piece to Camilladilla's entry.

I- ~ ~ ~ -I

There wasn't a word Hawke could find to express the absolute horror plastered across his face. He blinked, tersely, disbelieving as he cocked his head to the side, eyes wide as they skimmed the offending objects Anders held from between thin fingers. They dangled there, midair, outstretched as familiar, needy eyes took on an almost mischievous glint from underneath dark lashes; the corners of pale lips twitching as Anders fought to conceal a far from inconspicuous smirk. Of course, Hawke could only groan, head hung low as he reached to collect that which it was his lover offered, and Anders, being Anders, could only stare at him in delight; eyes alight with a misguided sense of fascination twinged by a small hint of lust, seeing perhaps just how far Hawke could be pushed before finally saying 'no'.

Alas, it would not be this night that such a limit would be found.

"I'll leave you to it." Was all Anders said, and Hawke could practically taste the grin behind that sultry voice as a heavy door snapped shut behind the retreating form of the man he loved.

When Hawke's ass finally hit smooth, cool sheets, he ran shaking fingers through soft hair and sighed, shifting as he began to change, muttered curses easily heard as they were carried by hushed breaths.

Some indeterminable time later, Hawke found himself in a rather less than pleasant situation. Mind you, 'twas a situation which was quickly _becoming_ pleasant if the gleam in Anders' eyes was any indication of things to come. Pulling at the cool ribbon which bound his wrists, Hawke groaned as a pleased, smug smile crossed thin lips, drying paint itching against skin as familiar amber eyes roamed across orange tinted flesh. A dip in the bed, and sly fingers danced across the smooth, black fabric which encased an awakening erection, a near purr rumbling against his chest as unshaven stubble scratched against his abdomen.

"I told you I'd have to improvise, didn't I?"

Hawke could only roll his eyes before surprise took hold, eyes focusing with an odd combination of anger and lust when a collar clicked into place around his throat.

With this Anders smiled, pink tongue peeking out from behind blunt teeth as he tasted his lower lip, an idle finger flicking against the small, metal bell which hung from the centre of rough leather. It rested against the dip in Hawke's throat, his teeth ground tight as Anders toyed aimlessly with it, allowing the soft ring to echo out across the room, bouncing against stone walls.

"Well now, aren't you a frisky little tiger?" Honeyed words coupled by devious little fingers against his chest, but they did nothing to alleviate the growing annoyance coiled beneath Hawke's skin, even as they tweaked a perked nipple in appreciation.

Until, however, knowing hands found their way to his hips, lifting them up as they pulled away restrictive cloth. Skilled fingers found warm flesh, and Hawke shuddered, the tension in his jaw lessening as a moan escaped his collared throat, dexterous hands pulling against him in a slow, sensual rhythm. There was a fleeting thought of rebellion, resistance for what it was he wore, but they were silenced in quick fashion when a ragged nail scratched ever so lightly against now moist, throbbing heat. Hawke howled out his pleasure as a feral glint glazed over darkening eyes.

Which of course found said hand releasing it's grip, amber eyes meeting his own with a disapproving, if pensive look hidden behind heavy lids, the scent of sex thick in the air as it hung above them.

"Hmmm." Anders hummed, fingers - which not a moment earlier had been working a straining, twitching prick - found their way beneath Anders' own tongue, tasting salt and the ever heady, earthly flavour of all things Hawke. His eyes seemed to fade, drifting lost in thought, cleaning said digits almost meticulously; lapping against them like a cat to fresh cream. Hawke looked on, eyes tracing the movement of that teasing, silver-lined tongue, his own summoned forth to wet dry, aching lips.

Anders shift was sudden and Hawke stilled as amber eyes snapped back into focus, a euphoric epiphany hidden behind lustful eyes. He leaned down, near straddling Hawke, lips brushing against an ear as a seductive tongue caressed and teased in a manner no man could name.

"Purr for me, little tiger." Was followed by a rough nip on soft flesh, and Hawke bucked, growling against his confines as near scalding breath tickled against quivering skin. Anders raised his head, looking down at him with an almost playful expression before pulling another ribbon from seemingly thin air. Black and cool, a contrast to Hawke's feverish skin, and he bit his own lip as Anders' traced it along his naval with quick, sharp patterns. Both a tease and promise of things to come.

The night was long, and while being pushed to the brink countless times over but never finding release was certainly a cause for the undoubtedly endless sexual torture, it was not the root cause. Oh no.

The length of night was of course caused by Anders' ever depraved and devious whims, and the final use of that second, teasing strip of ribbon.

An ever elegant bow tied around a "little tiger" later, and Hawke did indeed purr for Anders. Many, many times.


End file.
